


In Pieces

by angelsfalling16



Series: 20 First Kisses [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SnowBaz, and has a happy ending, but it gets better, this is really sad at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 06:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15358605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfalling16/pseuds/angelsfalling16
Summary: Baz is hurting, and all Simon wants to do is help him in anyway possible.





	In Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Ed Sheeran’s “Supermarket Flowers.” Listening to the song isn’t necessary to reading the story, but it will probably enhance the reading of the story.

**Simon**

After classes, I head straight to Mummers House. I step into the room, empty like usual, and head to the bathroom for an early shower. I don’t bother turning on the lights. I just grab some clean clothes from my dresser and trod to the shower.

I stand in there for a while, soaking up all of the hot water. Baz takes a shower in the mornings, so it’s not like he can pick a fight with me just for hogging all of the hot water.

When I step out of the bathroom, a sound escapes my throat that I am too embarrassed to admit to making. I’m not sure what it is that frightens me, the ghostly white figure huddled up in the corner on the other side of the room or the sob that escapes from this same figure.

I stand frozen, just outside of the bathroom, holding onto the towel I was using to shake out my hair. It takes me a minute to realize that the figure lurking in the corner is Baz. It takes me another minute to understand that he’s crying. Like, full on crying, his nose running, eyes red and puffy, tears pooling on his chin. He doesn’t even bother trying to wipe them away.

This must be a trap. He’s trying to lure me into the dark corner of our room, so he can finally finish me off. Well, I’m not falling for it. I refuse to walk right into his very obvious trap. I start to turn towards my bed, but then, another sob escapes from his mouth.      

I know right then that he isn’t faking it. The sound was too real for it to be fake. Even Baz can’t fake that kind of emotion just to bring someone down. I drop the towel I’m still holding, and suddenly I’m on the other side of the room. I barely remember moving. I thought about being next to him, and then I was.

I kneel down in front of him. “Are you okay, Baz?” I ask softly.

“Leave me alone, Snow.” He sneers at the floor. He’s got his knees pulled up to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around them. Like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“Baz…” I say quieter this time. I don’t think he hears me this time, though, because he has earbuds in. I bite my lip, trying to figure out what to do. On a whim, I gently tug on one of the earbuds. I expect Baz to slap my hand away, but he doesn’t. I put the earbud in my own ear, and it becomes instantly clear why he’s crying.

 

**Baz**

Bloody freaking Snow. Who does he think he is? He waltzes into our room, practically  _skipping,_ and doesn’t even see me sitting there on the floor. I muffle a sob, but he wouldn’t have heard it anyway. He’s too busy humming to himself incoherently.

I wipe my eyes in case he finally gets a clue and sees me. But he doesn’t see me. He goes into the bathroom, completely oblivious. Am I so unnoticeable that even my roommate can’t see me? Granted, the lights are turned off, and I’m sort of tucked off in the corner. Still, it’s like no one sees me. I’m right here. But I’m still alone.

This is my chance. To get away without him ever seeing me there on the floor, vulnerable. I wipe the tears that keep coming and try to stand up. It feels like I’m glued to the floor by the weight of my own emotions. My body feels heavy. (Even though I haven’t fed recently.) I can’t find the will to move up off the floor. To ever move again. So, I just sit there.

And that’s how Snow finds me curled into myself, sobbing uncontrollably.

Wait, did Simon freaking Snow just scream like a little girl?

If I wasn’t in such a bad place, I probably would have laughed and teased him for it. As it was, I just looked away. Hopefully, he would leave the room and forget about me. It shouldn’t be too hard for him. It doesn’t seem like he thinks about much anyway.

Another sob escapes as I wait for him to leave. He doesn’t leave though. I look up and he’s inches away from me, kneeling on the ground, with an odd expression on his face. It almost looks like he’s worried. But why would he care enough to be worried about me? He must just want me to know that he sees me there, so he can hold it over me later. Screw him.

I simultaneously want to push him away and pull him closer. I just tell him to go away instead. He ignores me. Then, he starts to pull one of my earbuds. I don’t care enough to stop him, so I rest my head on my knees. I can’t see his face, but I know it’s probably full of pity when he hears the song I’m listening to.

 

**Simon**

I listen to the song for a moment before I recognize it. It’s Ed Sheeran’s “Supermarket Flowers.” I’ve listened to this song a couple of times myself. It always makes me sad even though I’ve never really had a mom that I could feel this way about.

The song ends quickly, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe he’ll get up and stop freaking me out with his sudden display of emotions.

But the song starts again from the beginning. He has it on repeat. I don’t know what to do or say, so I just sit there in front of him. I want him to know I’m here if he needs anything.

Even if we don’t have the best relationship, I still don’t want him to feel the way he must be feeling right now. No one should be left alone when they are like this. No matter what they may have done.

As the lyrics “Oh I’m in pieces, it’s tearing me up, but I know a heart that’s broke is a heart that’s been loved” plays, Baz cries harder. I reach out and grab his hand. He keeps his head down, so I squeeze it to make sure he knows that I’m there. He doesn’t have to be alone right now.

After a moment, he slowly lifts his head up but doesn’t pull his hand away. His expression is unreadable. He’s looking just to the side of my face, not really looking at me, just near me.

Good enough. At least he has moved. (And not just to push me away from him.)

Then, the lyrics “John says he’d drive then put his hand on my cheek and wiped a tear from the side of my face” played. For some unthinkable reason, I do just that. I raise the hand that isn’t holding on to his and rest it against his cheek. Then, I use my thumb to catch a falling tear and wipe it away.

 

**Baz**

He grabs my hand, and my breath hitches in my throat. Why is he doing this? I’ve treated him like crap for years, but he’s sitting in front of me now trying to comfort me. What does he get out of this? Out of holding my hand in his? As I question this, I know that I never want him to let go.

I look up to see if maybe he’s laughing at me and just trying to get my attention. He isn’t, though. He doesn’t have a look of pity either. Not exactly. His face is also full of pain, but he isn’t crying like me. Then I remember that he never had a mother. This song must be heartbreaking to him, too, in a way. I squeeze his hand, trying to convey my thoughts, to let him know that I understand his pain.

Then, he takes me by surprise. Again. Going along with the words in the song, he places his warm hand on my cold skin and wipes away one of my tears. I expect him to remove his hand immediately after, but he doesn’t.

We sit frozen like that. Me, clinging to his hand for dear life. And him, his hand resting lightly on my cheek. I lean into his hand slightly, and he intertwines our fingers. What are we doing?

Whatever it is, I never want it to stop.

 

**Simon**

What am I doing? I ask myself when I don’t remove my hand from his face. Then, I feel myself tangling my fingers with his. This isn’t right. But if it isn’t right, why does it feel so nice?

For once, we aren’t fighting. And this feels so much better. Why haven’t we done this before?

We stare at each other, wordlessly, as the song fades out and starts again. He moves his legs apart, and I find myself wanting to move closer to him.

So, I do.

 

**Baz**

Our noses are practically touching now. I can feel his breath on my chin. He’s a mouth breather, and I find this endearing. I want to climb into his head and figure out what he’s thinking. He can’t possibly be thinking the same thing I am.

 

**Simon**

What am I thinking? Baz is my enemy. I have never been this close to him before, not even when we were fighting. I realize I’m staring at his lips, so I look away. I end up staring into his eyes which are full of tears. I just want to make him stop crying, stop feeling so horribly.

I try to think about what would cheer me up if I were in his situation. The first thing that pops into my head surprises me, but I don’t question it right now. I just do it.

 

**Baz**

Simon starts to lean closer to me, and I hold my breath. Maybe he  _is_  thinking the same thing as me. My eyes flutter close, and I breathe in through my nose, trying (and failing) to steady my heart beat.

 

**Simon**

I press my lips to his, lightly. Unsure. Afraid that he’s going to throw me across the room for this. That’s not what he does. He pushes his lips against mine harder. His face is wet with tears, and I pull away slightly. He looks like he’s about to frown, but I lean back towards him and kiss away the tears that are still on his cheeks.

He pulls his hand out of mine, and I freeze. I’ve done something wrong. I’m so stupid. Why would I think this would cheer him up? Now, he really is going to kill me.

But then I feel his fingers tangle in my hair, and he turns his face so that he can catch my mouth with his.

 

**Baz**

He growls against my mouth when I grab his hair. That’s when I lose control. But not in a bad way this time. I lay my legs down flat on the floor and pull him onto my lap. He gasps in surprise, and I smile.

My skin should be burning from the cross he wears around his neck, but he isn’t wearing it. He must not have put it back on when he got out of the shower. I’m glad. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do what I do next.

I lay a trail of light kisses from his mouth down until I reach the mole on his neck. I kiss it. I’ve stared at that mole so many times. I never thought I would be so close to it someday.

I also never thought that I would pull him onto my lap after he kissed me. But I did. And he hasn’t pushed me away so far.

He leans down and kisses me on the mouth again. He pushes his whole body up against me before abruptly pulling away. The earbuds fall from our ears, forgotten now.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“What?” I say. Why is he sorry? Is he sorry he kissed me? Was it that bad? I’ve never kissed anyone before. I frown, and he kisses the corner of my mouth, making me smile slightly. He isn’t sorry he kissed me, then. But what else would he be sorry for? “Why are you sorry?” I ask.

“Because…” he trails off, and I worry that he won’t continue. “Because you were full of so much pain when I saw you. I – I’m sorry that you have to feel that way. I wish I could make you feel better.” He looks down at his hands, flustered.

“But you did make me feel better.” He still won’t look at me, so I use two of my fingers to lift his chin. “I was sitting here feeling sorry for myself, and instead of making me feel worse like you could have, like you probably should have for all of the things I’ve done to you, you tried to comfort me.”

“I probably should have done something better than kissing you when I was sure you would punch me for it.

I chuckle softly. “Kissing me was the best thing you could have done,” I assure him. “Nothing else could have made me happier.”

He kisses me suddenly, pressing me hard up against the wall. His cheeks are flushed when he pulls away, but he doesn’t look like he regrets what he did. I don’t either. That’s why I grab his hips and pull us back together. We kiss longer this time, finally pulling away to catch our breaths.

“I love you,” he says. His eyes widen like he’s surprised that those words just fell from his mouth.

He doesn’t take it back, though.

“I love you, too. I always have.” It’s true. I’ve loved him for so long and so much that I used it to hurt him more. It was wrong of me, but I was afraid of what he would do if he ever found out. So, I just lashed out at him.

His eyes turn bright, like he’s a kid, and I’ve just told him that he could have anything he wanted. I laugh lightly. I’m used to making his eyes darken with hate. This is nice. He kisses me again, and we stay like that for a long time. Together.


End file.
